


The Soft Side of Micah Bell

by MALLR4TS



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Bullet wound, Chapter 2: Horseshoe Overlook (Red Dead Redemption 2), Chapter 3: Clemens Point (Red Dead Redemption 2), Cuddling, Drinking, F/M, First Date, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Healing, Minor Violence, Party, Robbery, Self-Doubt, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Slow Dancing, Stab Wound, Stabbing, Tension, argument, handjobs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2020-10-24 10:50:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20704754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MALLR4TS/pseuds/MALLR4TS
Summary: After being shot in the leg during a robbery, the reader is left bed-bound to heal.Micah decides to care for you.Once fully healed, you find yourself tangled in a web of emotions. Does Micah feel the same way?





	1. Bed Bound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [03/10/20] ok before any newbies read, I just want y'all to know that the first few chapters are very short and my writing is very poor here, but trust me, it does get better :) 
> 
> Tumblr and Twitter are @MALLR4TS

Robberies tend to go to plan. Who wouldn't hand over a few items when held at gunpoint? The group you robbed tonight. You had been shot in the leg, hunched over your horse as you rode back into camp, eyes heavy, sound and sight beginning to fade. You felt your mind slip into darkness just as someone called out your name.

You awoke to find yourself in your tent, the flaps wide open, suns rays shining down on the camp. You were laying in your cot, a wet flannel over your forehead. At first, you questioned if you were dead and had gone to heaven, but surely heaven wouldn't be the camp? Then again, the gang did mean the world to you and brought you more happiness than anyone ever had.  
It wasn't until you looked down at your bound leg that you realized you were in fact very alive, and very lucky to be alive.

"You're awake," a voice said. You looked up to see Micah walking into your tent, a cup of water in hand, which he placed on the empty crate beside your cot.

"Oh, hello Mr. Bell," you replied as you sat up, moving the flannel from your forehead onto the crate after wiping the sweat from your cheeks.

Micah was someone who you'd never really spoken to. He'd tried flirting with you a few times as he does with everyone else, but that was it. You knew he was the camp rat and everyone hated him, par Dutch. And you knew he was a piece of shit, never did anything for anyone but himself.

"How're you feeling?" he asked, looking down at your leg.

"I uh.. okay, I guess. I don't really know what happened," you answered him honestly. Micah sat on another spare crate by the foot of your bed.

"You rode into the camp, passed out a few nights ago, fell off your horse as they stopped. Everyone rushed over t'save ya. Got a couple of stitches done. Been out cold since," Micah bluntly explained.

"Have you been taking care of me since?" you asked.

"Been a mix of me 'n' the girls. I can stop helpin' out if that err.. makes you uncomfortable," Micah replied as he itched the back of his neck.

"No no! It's fine. I just uh.. wasn't expecting it, that's all," you politely explained.

"Well expect it," Micah huffed. He paused for a moment and looked at you, raising his hands in that generic pose he always does. "I apologize, I didn't mean to snap at'cha. It's just... force of habit."

"It's okay, Micah. I appreciate you caring for me," you smiled at him.

This felt weird. You'd never ever seen Micah be nice, not unless if he wanted something in return. Maybe you were actually dead and this was hell? Nice Micah felt weird.

"I'll leave you to get some rest, cowpoke," he said as he stood up. "If you need me, shout me," Micah said as he walked out of your tent, out of sight.

You lay back down and sighed after taking a sip of water. You were hoping you healed fast as you couldn't wait to be back on your feet again. Your body suddenly felt tired, and you quickly went back to sleep.

The next time you woke, you first noticed Micah sat at the end of your bed on the same crate. The sky was dark behind him, though the camp was dimly let up from the lanterns dotted around.

"What time is it?" you asked him, giving your eyes a rub.

"10," he replied. His eyes were focused on cleaning his guns. "How're you feeling?" he asked.

"Groggy," you sighed. "My wound aches. When I first woke up I couldn't feel a thing, but fuck. This really stings!"

You sat upright and began to pick at the bandages, wanting to see how bad it really was.

"Stop that!" Micah snapped at you. "You wanna heal quick? Or fuck up them stitches and have to suffer some more?" he said with a stern look.

"Oh.. sorry," you replied, somewhat shook from Micah shouting at you. He deeply sighed and looked back down at his gun.

"Look, I'm sorry I snapped. I just don't wanna see yourself gettin' in more trouble," he explained.

"It's okay. It's nice having someone care for me, even if you do have weird ways of showing it," you lightly laughed. You could see Micah smile under the brim of his hat.

"Yeah well, the quicker you heal, the quicker you don't have to deal with me," he replied.

"Don't be like that! I've enjoyed your company, for the short amount of time I've been awake."

"Well it's good to know I am appreciated," Micah said as he put his guns back in their holsters. "Do you want me to get you anythin'? A drink?" he asks.

"Whiskey, please," you reply, hissing again at the pain.

"Of course," he laughed and got up, heading out.

  
Minutes later, Micah returned with a bottle and two glasses. He placed the glasses on your bedside 'table,' and poured you both a drink. Micah then pulled his 'seat' over to sit right beside your bed. The two of you cheers'd and downed your drink.

"Better already?" Micah asked as he wiped the alcohol from his mustache.

"Yeah," you replied. Micah poured the two of you another drink, and this one you decided to sip on.

"So, Mr. Bell. What made you decide to come and be my babysitter?" you asked him.

"Well. I uh.. you see," Micah stuttered, breaking his eye contact with you and looking around your tent as if he was searching for answers. "I'm just tryna show y'all how it's done. That's all."

'_Liar._' You thought.

"Got fed up of Hosea shouting at you to do some work?" you jokingly asked him.

"No no, no one tells me what to do. I just saw ya'll be strugglin' and figured I could do all the work in this camp with my eyes closed," Micah shrugged as if it were nothing.

"I'd like to see that when I'm better," you laughed as you took another drink. Micah brought the bottle to your glass and topped you up.

"You will, doll. Well, you can already see me helpin' you out."

"Aint that a start," you smiled. He smiled back at you.

For a split second, you felt your heart soften. You began putting puzzle pieces together, knowing that Micah only does something when he wants something for himself. Was Micah taking care of you because he had an interest in you? Why had he never tried before? Yes, he used to flirt, but it was always raunchy inappropriate flirting which made you cringe. He also flirted the same way with everyone, which never made you feel any special.  
  
But this? This did. Micah going out of his way to take care of you. Micah waiting beside you to wake and see if you're okay. Micah tending to your wound and waiting on you.  
  
This was just normal human behavior, but for Micah, it was something different. You'd never seen the man be soft at all. Not in the slightest. So knowing he's been running around the camp trying to take care of you set something off. It was as if a few little butterflies had emerged from their cocoons and had begun flying around your stomach.  
  
It felt weird. A good weird?

"You alright, darlin'? You've gone quiet," Micah asked as he snapped you out of your daydream.

"Oh yeah, I'm fine. My mind just went blank. I'm still tired, my body feels worn out," you lied.

"I can leave you t'rest, if ya want?"

"I think I need some rest, yeah," you said as you placed your glass down.

"I'll leave the bottle here in case ya need some more," he said as he stood up and moved the crate back to the end of your bed. "Shout if ya need me," Micah said as he began to leave.

"Wait!" You said in a slightly raised voice. "You could just move your bedroll in here? Wouldn't that be easier?" you asked him.

"Didn't realize ya wanted my company that bad," Micah joked.

"Only if you want to, I'm sure its easier for you to take care of me that way," you replied.

"Sure, doll. Let me go get it," Micah replied as he left the tent.

Micah wasn't one to sleep. You'd only ever seen him asleep after heavy drinking. Well, that was more of him being passed out, but it sorta counts. You didn't even know where his tent was and you were pretty sure his bedroll was still saddled up on Baylock.  
  
Micah soon came back and set his roll on the floor beside your cot. He didn't head to bed, telling you he'd just be sat outside the front of your tent having a drink. Yet again, your stomach fluttered as he spoke. Micah left the tent flaps open, ensuring he was in your line of view to keep your mind at ease. You snuggled yourself down and drifted off to sleep.


	2. Reassurance

You awoke in a state of panic, panting, eyes already crying. You tried to keep your voice down, worried about waking the others, but you couldn't help but hiss and yelp at the burning feeling in your leg. Looking around the tent, you looked for something to calm the pain.

The whiskey.

You didn't hesitate to open the bottle and chug a load down. The bottle slipped as you tried to put it back on your bedside table, thudding against the grassy floor. That was when Micah walked into your tent, seeing you clutching your leg with tears down your face, his whiskey all over the floor.

"Darlin'!" he said as he rushed over and crouched down beside you. "What's wrong?" he asked. For a split second, you saw his hands go to wipe your tears away but quickly pulled back. It was clear he was trying not to cross any lines.

"My leg, Micah. It stings!" You sobbed. "It burns, I don't know what to do. It hurts real bad." You couldn't help but cry more, both of your hands gripping onto your leg as if that'd help the pain. Your leg was twitching, muscles shaking as the bullet wound ached, the burning sensation returning as you felt like you'd been shot all over again.

Micah got up and sat on your cot behind you. His arms wrapped around your waist and chest as he pulled you back to lean against his chest. You instinctively went to gripping onto his shirt, crying against him. He kept one arm around your waist, the other going up to softly stroke your hair as he began hushing and cooing you.

"It's all gonna be fine, the pain will pass, trust me," Micah reassured.

You buried your head into his chest more, your tears dampening his collar. Micah continued to hush you, stroke your hair, reassure you. Despite being distracted by the pain, you did notice the small kiss he planted on your head. And you couldn't help but cuddle into him more, loving his reassurance. Was it reassurance though? Or was it the softness of him that you loved, the side that no one else had clearly ever seen. The soft side of Micah Bell.

Your mind wandered off from the pain, and onto the train of thoughts of your companion. It was then that you realized that you very clearly liked him. Who knew that Micah showing a little softness and human decency made him so likable. He was a rat, yes, but maybe this was the start of something new in him.  
  
Surely he wouldn't be doing all this just to get in your pants. Micah is a one-liner, one night stand kinda guy. He wouldn't waste his time being soft and flirting with someone just for a quickie. You hoped Micah really did feel the same as you did, and if not, then at least he was starting to attempt being a good person.

"Darlin? You with me?" Micah asked you again.

You snapped back into reality.

"Hm?" You asked as you looked up slightly.

"Oh, you're alive. Thought you might have died on me there. Weren't respondin' to me," Micah said as he looked down at you. "How's that leg of yours?"

"It.. it doesn't hurt anymore," you said with disbelief that it had somehow stopped hurting. "I kinda just zoned out and it stopped."

"Guess I'm good at distractions then," Micah chuckled as his hand gently pushed your head back against his chest. Yet again, you snuggled up to him without thinking about it.

You stayed silent. Micah played with your hair again. You listened to his heartbeat and his long, slow breaths. Before you knew it, you had fallen asleep against him. It actually took a while for Micah to realize, as he had gone into somewhat of a trance - his eyes also closed, stroking your hair without realizing. He snapped out of it when he heard a light snore from you.

Micah smiled a smile so sweet. He kicked off his boots, leaving him in his shirt and pants, and shuffled onto your cot beside you. He gently rested you down onto your pillow, his arm underneath your head, as he pulled the covers over the two of you, making sure you had more than enough. His other arm snuck around your waist, and Micah shut his eyes and let his mind go blank, letting himself rest.

Was it wrong for Micah to get cosy with you? Probably. But he had quickly picked up on those little things - the way your eyes glistened as you looked at him, the small lick of your lips when you saw him drink that Whiskey, the way you clung onto him with no remorse. If Micah really was reading you wrong then he'd be quick to put his hands up and walk away, but there's nothing wrong with taking a chance.


	3. Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wahayyyy another chapter!!!

You had awoke the next morning to find Micah wasn't by your side, but you were still on one side of the cot, leaving a big space from where he lay. Micah had been distant the next couple of days, still checking in on you and being by your side, but he didn't seem as soft as before. Maybe he felt like he had crossed a boundary and was trying to ease off a bit?

You missed seeing that soft side of him. You missed him calling you sweet names rather than just 'cowpoke,' or waking up to see him lingering around your tent, keeping an eye on you.

By now your wound had healed and you were able to walk about, though you were on a slight limp. The girls had said you'd definitely be back to your normal self within a few more weeks, but at least you were no longer bed-bound and could actually get up and move around the camp.

Thankfully, you never had any chores to do. You did offer to help with sitting jobs, like cutting veg for the stew or washing clothes. Miss Grimshaws' answer would flick between yes and no depending on how she felt that day. Some days she seemed eager and thankful that you could help out, but other days she would fuss you and tell you that you needed rest.  
  


Tonight you were sat beside the fire, back leaning against the log. Javier had kept you company for most of the night, softly strumming at his guitar whilst the two of you spoke. He had a fantastic way with words, and you found yourself laughing at every joke he cracked. It had felt like weeks since you had a good laugh, mostly because it had been.

Javier finally went to bed, wishing you a good night as he wandered off to his tent. You sat by yourself for a moment until you heard footsteps lingering over to you. They were paced uneven, and you soon figured out why as a drunk Micah came and sat on the log where you rested.

"Miss ___," he said with the nod of his hat, clearly struggling to sit on the log as he swayed back slightly.

"Now why do you keep addressin' me like that?" you asked him bluntly. You were fed up with him being so distant with you, and pressured to get to the bottom of it.

"Like what?" he asked.

"Calling me Miss and cowpoke. The other week you were callin' me the sweetest of names, now you're actin' like we've just met," you replied, blunt again.

Micah seemed shocked at your blunt confrontation. He paused for a long moment, trying to think of an answer that wouldn't sound stupid, or not as stupid coming from a drunk Micah Bell.

"You like them names I call you?" he asked you.

"Yes!"

"Well then, doll, guess I'll just keep callin' you them," Micah grinned as he rested his hands behind him on the log, propping him upright as he tried to keep his balance.

You smiled back at him, watching the drunk man trying to sit normally on the log. You patted the ground beside you, and he seemed confused at the gesture.

"You can't sit on that log without fallin' off. Come sit beside me," you said, patting the earth again.

Micah took your invitation and shuffled off the log, sitting down just inches away from you. You felt his sleeve brush lightly against your arm as he got comfortable, and you realized how badly you longed for him to touch you again, to hold you again, to be soft on you again.

It was a cold night, though the heat of the fire was definitely keeping you warm. Though every now and again you let out a fake shiver, hoping Micah would pick up on it.

The two of you continued to sit in silence. Micah's head leaned back against the log, watching the flames from under the brim of his hat. You couldn't help but flick glances at him every so often, thought your eyes never met. His eyes seemed locked on the fire, mind adrift. You shivered again, tucking your legs up against your chest.

"When you gonna stop shiverin'? You're makin' me feel cold," he asked, eyes not looking at you.

"Sorry. I should probably go get my coat," you replied, about to get up. You had given up on getting close to him after that sharp response.

"No. C'mere, doll," Micah said as he looked at you and stretched his arm behind you, restin' on the log. "That is, if you want," he added, raising his hand innocently before stretching it back out.

You took the opportunity to scooch over to him, your sides resting against each other. Micah's arm came to rest around your shoulders, pulling you against him more. His eyes flicked back to watching the fire. You paused for a moment, looking up at him in admiration, before snuggling your head into the crook of his neck. As your hair brushed against the skin of his neck, his whole body tensed up, not use to any form of physical affection. His grip around your shoulder tightened as his breaths got deeper. Micah seemed to freeze like a deer in the headlights, and after what felt like minutes, he suddenly pulled you into him more.  
  
His other arm came around your waist, holding you against him as you felt his cheek rest on top of your head. Micah's hands were unable to stay still, going through stages of softly kneading you, stroking you, and finding new areas of you to settle on.

You could feel his mind wandering. He seemed to touch-deprived and was going overboard just from you cuddling up to him.

"I ain't comfortable," Micah suddenly said, and before you could reply he had picked you up and scooted you in between his legs. Your back came to rest against his chest, his legs on either side of you.

Micah's hands snaked around your waist, and you felt his head rest on top of yours again.

You felt his chest slowly rise and fall against your back, and his fidgeting had calmed down. Micah seemed content, and you definitely were too. You moved your arms to also lay on top of your waist, over Micah's. Without realizing, one of your hands rested perfectly on top of his, your soft skin pressing against his bruised knuckles. You overheard him let out a sigh, as his hand turned over to take yours in his.

Micah sighed again as you entwined your fingers with his, his other arm holding you tighter, hoping you'd never let go.  
  


"Micah?" you softly asked him, barely a whisper.

"Mhmm?" he hummed.

"Are you alright?" you asked.

Micah paused yet again, struggling to find the words. He pondered between telling you he was fine - his usual blatant lie. He then considered trying to find the words to tell you all the things you made him feel. Maybe he should kiss your forehead or even your lips. Micah imagined tilting your head around to softly brush his lips over yours, finally finding out just how sweet you were. He also considered breaking down, his emotions eating at him from the inside out. He had always struggled with the softer, kinder side of things. It wasn't his fault, it was how his dad had raised him - to be a spineless outlaw. Micah never expected to find someone so sweet, so kind. He pictured spending his life with you, knowing he'd never have to pay for your company as he had with other women, but he then began to doubt himself. What if you were just being nice to him? Just being polite? What if you knew something was up with him so you were just being his shoulder to cry on? But surely a woman wouldn't be pressed so comfortably against him if she was just being kind. He prayed to whatever was above that you may actually return the feelings he had, the feelings he struggled to cope with, the feeling that made him not feel like his usual pent up self as they ate at his insides.

"Micah?" You asked him again. Micah realized his grip has tightened during his train of thought, clearly worried you were going to let go.

"Nothin' doll, I'm fine," Micah replied. _'Idiot,'_ he thought.

"You don't seem like your usual self," you told him, giving him another opportunity to open up. But Micah did what Micah always does, and shot you down.

"Honestly, doll, I'm fine."

You felt frustrated that he wouldn't open up to you. He had been so distant lately, and although you were finally in his arms again, he seemed to still be holding back. Hopefully, in due time he would open up to you, but for now, you enjoyed the feeling of him pressed against you, the feeling of his hand holding yours, the feeling of his long breaths drifting against the back of your neck.

Micah just needed some time.


	4. Robbery

Another week and a half had passed and by now you were almost fully back to your usual self. You had gone back to doing your usual work for the camp, a mix of chores and hunting, though you were hesitant to go on any heists, or at least not without company, especially with the small limp you carried around.

You had just returned from hunting with Charles, a deer strapped over the back of both of your horses. You hitched ___ giving them a pat before de-mounting and taking the carcass off them. Charles did the same, taking his over to Pearsons' cooking table.  
You followed slightly behind and could see Micah approaching you out of the corner of your eye.

"Ain't we glad you've healed fast. Now the camp can eat for once, knowin' at least someone here pulls their weight," Micah complimented you, leaning against the table.

"I wouldn't be the hunter I am if it wasn't for Charles," you replied, overhearing Charles chuckle in appreciation.

"I only showed you the basics. You are as good as he says you are," Charles tells you before he heading off.

"Either way, you're good," Micah said as he rested his hand on his gunbelt, flashing you a smile. "So this may be too early for you, but I overheard of a homestead that needs robbin'. Somethin' simple. Heard this is their second house and they only visit it for the summer, leavin' it to rot with cash inside for the rest of the year."

"Sounds easy enough. How far?" you asked him.

"Not far, just east of here. If we leave now we can get there by sundown and be back by nightfall," Micah replied.

"Well, I guess you've convinced me," you shrugged, surprised at the lack of warnings in your head. "Let's get going."

Micah grinned as he followed you over to the horses, the two of you mounting up and setting off.

Micah's timing was right. The ride wasn't too far, and the sun was beginning to dip into the horizon by the time you arrived.  
  
The house looked partly abandoned, windows and doors boarded up, though the house was fully standing with no signs of decay. It was clearly a summer home.  
  
You both hitched your horses in the woods behind the back of the house and proceeded to approach the back entrance. Micah, using his knife, pulled the nails out of the wooden planks and yanked them off the door. You then came into play, picking the lock. The door creaked open and Micah complimented your handy work. The thought of you two being the perfect outlaw duo crossed your mind, making your stomach turn as you realized how much you'd adore that.

The inside of the house was decorated nicely, barely showing any signs of age. What Micah had heard about the place was clearly true, and all you could do was question how stupid (or stupidly rich) these people are. The two of you began looting the bottom floor, still questioning why the owners left so many valuables here - Jewelry, silverware, trinkets, alcohol.  
You both eventually made your way upstairs, hoping that something big was stashed up there, like a bundle of jewels under the floorboards, or some well-aged wine.

Micah got onto his hands and knees and began peeking under the bed.  
  
"C'mon, gotta' be some cash here somewhere," he mumbled as he searched.

"We've already got more than enough," you replied to him, searching through the draws, pulling out a few nice items to keep for yourself.

"We just need somethin' more. Somethin' to give to Dutchy to show him we're pullin' our weight," Micah replied as he got up.

Just as you were about to reply, your eyes thankfully drifted out the window to see two horses outside.

"Micah. Someones here," you whispered, eyes still looking outside. Micah walked over to see your view, noticing the two horses with their owners nowhere to be found.

Micah was about to make a comment, but quickly shut up as both of you heard voices coming from downstairs. Micah went to pull his gun out of his holster, but you pulled him into the closet and slowly closed the door behind the two of you.

"What we hidin' for?" Micah whispered.

"No one needs to get killed. We're just here to rob, not fight."

Micah sighed and rolled his eyes. He was such a bloodthirsty man.

You knelt down to place your bag of loot on the floor, making sure the trinkets inside didn't clank together and make a sound. As you stood back up, you noticed how crammed the closet was. It had a few clothes in, leaving the rest of the tight space to be filled up by the two of you. You realized how close Micah was to you, how you were backed into the corner, how your chest was pressed against Micahs, how you could feel his breaths against your face.  
  
You looked up at Micah, the brim of his hat shadowed on his face, hiding his expression. But you knew he was looking down at you, feeling his gaze burning on your skin. You felt his chest tense up against yours, his breaths becoming long and deep.  
  
"Darlin'," Micah sighed as you felt his hand come up to hold your hip.

You rested your hands on his chest, still looking up at him. They slowly slid up, making their way around his neck as his other hand cupped your jaw, pulling you into him. Your fingers twiddled with the ends of his hair, your light touches making him feel a range of emotions.

Micah's lips were about to meet yours for the first time in this rather unusual setting. Your eyes were falling shut when you heard the sound of the bedroom door open. Micah heard it too and snapped his head around to peer out of the slats in the closet door.

"God damn it!" he yelled as he kicked open the door and shot the man who had just walked into the room. Micah stormed out of the room and stomped downstairs. You heard another gunshot shortly after, though you didn't question if Micah was the one being shot.

"Let's finish lootin' and go!" Micah shouted from downstairs. You quickly picked up your bag of loot and continued your rummage around the house, picking up the pace as you felt Micah's frustration.

The ride home was fairly quiet. You could tell Micah was frustrated, maybe even a little embarrassed. The two of you were so close, barely even an inch from kissing each other, and the feeling of his moustache hairs still ghosted on your upper lip.

You began to question when you would next get an opportunity. Micah tends to disappear for days on a regular basis, sometimes even weeks. He always comes back, always with money, but he always leaves again. He had only stayed around to babysit you whilst you were healing, but you were able to care for yourself. Maybe next time he'd leave he'd take you with him, or just not leave at all.

Once the two of you were back, both of you put your shares away, then headed over to put the camps share into the box.

"There," Micah said as he shut the lid.

"I'd say we did well. Thank you for taking me along," you said as you leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. It was the least you could do for the poor, touch-starved man.

Micah grinned the biggest grin you'd ever seen, dipping his head to try and hide his smile with the brim of his hat. You were certain his heart was beating faster than it ever had, his pudgy stomach swarming with butterflies.

"Anytime, darlin'," he replied, looking back up at you once he had managed to contain himself, though he still had a sparkle to his eyes.

"I'm going to get an early night. Goodnight, Mr. Bell," you smiled, slowly turning and making your way off through the camp.

Micah leaned back against the barrel, watching you walk away. His hands rested on his belt, head tilted slightly, eyes fixed on you. Once you were out of sight he looked over at the beach, watching how the moon's reflection danced along the light waves.

"What a woman."


	5. Snakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short one for now :^(

A few days had passed. Micah hadn't been around much, spending a lot of time looking for leads or a few trinkets that would make Dutch's eyes sparkle. You had been here and there; sometimes in the camp helping with chores, sometimes out hunting or sniffing around for information.  
  
Arthur had recently got close to you. He didn't seem to be sleeping much lately, often lingering around the campfire where you were always sat, also unable to sleep. He told you a lot of stories from when the gang was first getting together, seeing as you were one of their newest members.

And that's where you currently were, yet again. Sat on a log with Arthur opposite you, the fire putting a bit of distance between you both.  
  
He was asking small details about your past, letting you open up at whatever pace you were comfortable with. Arthur wasn't a pushy person when it came to personal things, he had a lot of respect for folk.  
  
Your mind drifted away from the conversation as you heard hooves pacing into camp. You looked over your shoulder to recognize the white hat and black horse. Micah was back.  
  
He had been away for a few days. You watched as he hitched Baylock and made his way into the camp. Micah looked up from under the brim of his wide hat to see you; he was about to start heading in your direction when he noticed Arthur sat with you. You saw the heels of his boots turn the other way as he wandered off into the camp.

"Why you so obsessed with that rat?" Arthur asked, making your head snap back as your eyes met his. His question had stumped you. You attempted to reply, but just let out a string of stutters.  
  
"You don't need to explain it to me. Just worried you're gonna get yourself into a mess," he shushed.

"I won't get myself into any messes," you reassured him.

"You already got yourself into one with that wound of yours. Micah pounced on you, and now you're stuck wrapped around his finger!" Arthur huffed as he sat upright, resting his hands on his thighs.

"I'm not! Micah and I are just friends. He'd never manipulate me!"

Arthur scoffed at your reply, waving his hand in the air and shaking his head.

"I ain't gonna tell you what you can and can't do. But getting close to that man is a big mistake. Hah, if you can even call him a man.. he's a coward for starters," Arthur grumbled as he shook his head.

"I think there's a good man in there. He may have his walls up, but there's someone good inside all of us."

"Micah chooses not to let that good man ever come out. But I guess you'll find that out sooner or later," Arthur said as he stood up from his seat. "I'm goin' bed. You should do the same, for your own sake."

"Okay, Arthur," you shrugged.

He gave you a small nod then strolled off to his tent.

You sat by yourself for a short while. You watched the fire; watching the embers burn, watching the orange hue glow, watching the smoke rise. You thought of Micah. You questioned manipulation.  
  
Was this man really out to get you? Was he trying to turn you into some dependant puppy? You had heard all the tales of his villainess, but a part of you didn't fully believe it. Micah was so soft on you, so sweet, so gentle. He nursed you back to health. He had never pushed anything on you, always waiting for you to show a sign of consent.  
  
Maybe Arthur was right? Maybe this was his plan all along: make you fall for him so he can eventually bid you to do his dirty work. But you were a strong woman, you knew how to pick up on red flags. Micah had given you none. Both your heart and gut said to go for it, so that was what you were going to continue to do.

You looked around the camp, knowing Micah would still be awake. There he was, sat at the table with a drink in hand. You rose from your seat and approached him. He didn't pay much attention as you walked over, his head hanging low, the brim of his hat covering most of his sight.

"Micah?" you asked for his attention.

Micah looked up and stared blankly at you.

"What do y'want?"

You paused for a moment, not used to being welcomed so bluntly.

"Uh. Where have you been?"

"Out. Lookin' for a score. Found a couple of things, robbed a couple of folk. The usual," he huffed.

"Oh, at least you got something!"

"Mhm. You been busy with Morgan whilst I was gone?"

"What?!" You asked, genuinely confused.

"Saw you two sat together at the fire. I know Morgan's a snake, but I didn't expect that from you."

"Micah. What are you sayin'?" you firmly asked him, hoping this conversation wasn't going where you thought it was. Micah rose from his seat, looking you dead in the eye.

"If you want him, have him. I ain't chasin' after any woman." Micah turned and walked off. A part of you wanted to chase after him, but you knew you would only be fueling the fire. So instead you stood and watched as he walked off, questioning how you were going to show him that your interest wasn't in Arthur, but in him.


	6. Rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big chapter :o sorry this one took forever, but i guess u can see why.

A week had passed. The camp had moved from Horseshoe Overlook to Clemens Point. Rhodes was another nice, quiet, little town, where you weren't allowed to cause any trouble. Everybody knew this was going to end in chaos, but at least the gang was trying to postpone that as much as possible.  
  
You had spent your time trying to socialize with everybody evenly, trying to show Micah that you weren't mingling specifically with Arthur. The girls had picked up on his lack of attention towards you and even scoffed at him when he attempted to flirt with a few of them. Ouch. You were thankful you weren't there to see it.

On this fine evening, you'd head out to rob a stagecoach with Arthur and Lenny. You knew it was going to be an easy task; Lenny wanted to try chatting up the passengers with a technique Hosea taught him.  
Arthur and yourself held back. You were to sneak up, pick the lock, and take the goods whilst Lenny distracted them. And if it went wrong, Arthur was there to have your back.

Back at camp, Abigail was currently doing the washing up from today's dinner. She was stood at Pearsons cooking table, tub of water placed on top which she used to rinse the cutlery out.  
Abigail was well focused on the task at hand, using a cloth to help scrub them clean. Her concentration was broken when a rather drunk Micah approached her, leaning on the table, causing it to wobble slightly, water splashing on her skirt which he either didn't notice or chose to ignore.

"Heard you 'n' Marston arguin' again. Ready to spend some time with a real man?" He asked, his words surprisingly not slurred.

"I ain't interested in dogs, you know this," Abigail huffed, keeping her eyes down as she wiped her skirt.

"Then why you still messin' round with Marston?"

"What goes on between me and John ain't nothin' to do with you. Now get." Abigail made a shooing motion with her hand.

Micah flinched at the sudden noise of Abigail stacking the clean bowls. She shuffled around to place them on the back of the wagon, before going back to the table to continue the next lot.  
Micah was about to open his mouth to speak but was quickly cut off.

"Why are you still here? Scram, you maggot!" Abigail huffed at him, her eyes then going down to her task.

"Maggot? I ain-"

"-Yes, you are," Abigail said as she cut him off. "I seen the way you're flirtin' with poor ___. Dumb girl flirts back and has puppy dog eyes every time she's near you. But the second she leaves the camp, you go crawlin' round like a dog in heat tryna jump onto whatever you can get," Abigail snapped, rushing her task to try and get away from him.

Micah paused for a moment, his mouth partially open as he tried to think of a response.

"See? you know I'm right. That's shut you up."

"Well, she's been doin' the same. Flirtin' with Morgan whenever she can," Micah said, a poor attempt of a comeback.

"I ain't seen them flirtin' at all. I ain't seen Miss ___ mingling with anyone but your sorry self. And whenever you ain't around, she seems lost." Abigail huffed,  
stopping her task. She shook her head as she spoke.

"I don't even know why I'm tellin' you this. I don't want that poor girl to end up with scum like you," Abigail said as she finished off her chore. "Now get, go bother someone else. I'm done here," Abigail said as she dried her hands and walked away.

Micah let out a long sigh, his hand propped up on the table, bottle in the other. He strummed his fingers on the table for a moment, thinking about what Abigail had said. Micah sighed again before walking off through the camp, making his way over to a large log along the beach.

The sun had set by now and the stars were already out, decorating the night sky. Micah sat down on a log, his elbows resting on his knees, back slightly slouched. He took one last large swig of his drink before tossing the bottle to the ground.

"Dammit, Micah," he said to himself, rubbing the back of his neck. He thought about how he'd snapped at you for something you didn't do, how he'd gone around tryna get with other women, how he'd been avoiding you for the last few days.

It began to rain.

Micah hummed in frustration to himself but made no attempt to move. He continued to look out over the lake, watching the rain hit the water's surface, thinking about you.  
How was he going to make this up to you? Flowers? Jewelry? A sincere apology? No, none of those would do.

Micah thought about his brother. He remembered watching him pine over a woman, a 'stupid woman' as Micah had once called her. He thought about how his brother was now on the other side of the country, how his brother had told Micah never to contact him again. His brother always seemed so happy in his letters, despite all the grief Micah put him through over settling and raising a family.  
Micah had continued to do what he was raised to do - kill or be killed. His brother had broken away from that and seemed happy, but why didn't he?

Micah overheard laughter and movement. He peered over his shoulder to see you, Arthur, and Lenny returning to camp. All three of you were smiling despite being drenched, bags of goodies in hand. You seemed so happy.  
Abigail said you seemed lost without him, so why didn't you seem that way now? Micah huffed and went back to watching the rainfall, now almost completely soaked.

Micah couldn't help but overhear the three of you as you moved around the camp. He heard you put your share away in your tent, put the camp share in the box, eat a bowl of soggy stew. He eventually heard Arthur say goodnight to you and Lenny, and not long after, Lenny also went to bed.

You were humming to yourself softly, wide awake, and surprisingly not cold despite being soaked. It was Summer after all.  
  
Everybody else had gone to bed considering it was 1am, minus Sean and Charles who were on guard duty. You decided you should at least dry yourself off and get into bed, so began heading over to your tent.  
  
A certain white hat appeared in your line of sight as you approached your tent, which was when you noticed Micah sat along the shoreline. Your first thought was to go over to him, but you were held back. He had been avoiding you all week, flirting with other women, and the last time you two spoke you'd argued. Still, there must be a reason why he was sat out in the rain.  
You might as well at least try and speak to him, right?

You made your way over to him, stopping about a meter behind him.

"Micah?" You asked.

"Hey, dollface," Micah replied, not looking back at you. You smiled at the pet name.

"You alright? I don't know if you've noticed but.. erm, its rainin' and you're soaked."  
  
You heard Micah let out a chuckle.

"I'm fine, darlin'. And I could say the same to you," he replied, rubbing his hands together.

"I'm drenched and I've accepted that. I ain't cold, I'm fine."

"Same here," Micah shrugged.

"Can I sit with you?" you ask him.

"Of course," he replies, still looking forward.

You approached, taking a seat next to him with a bit of space in between you two. You looked over at him as you sat; his eyes looked sad and rain was dripping off the brim of his hat. You noticed the empty bottle on the floor.

"You gonna tell me why you're sat out here in the rain?" you asked, breaking the silence.

"I'm just thinkin'," Micah replied.

"About what?" You asked.

Micah let out a sigh with a hint of frustration in it. He looked down at the ground and paused, eventually rubbing the back of his neck before looking back at the water. His elbows went back to resting on his knees, his fingers picking at each other nervously. Eventually, he spoke.

"You know, my father used to beat my mother whenever she stepped outta line. He used to beat my brother and I too. It's normal for us. He raised us to believe that the worlds out to get us, that it's kill or be killed. I was raised doin' that; huntin', robbin', killin'." Micah paused. "My brother eventually fell for a woman and moved to the other side of America. They're married now, got kids of their own. He told me how well he was doin' before tellin' me to never contact him again. He said he's done with that lifestyle and is done will me, unless I change."

Micah paused again. You stayed silent, letting him talk.

"I never thought about changin' cause I never thought I needed to. No woman could ever love me, so why bother? I knew I'd end up how my father wanted me. I knew I'd end up just like him."

Micah turned to look at you, his eyes glossed over.

"And then I joined this gang, and I met you. I've been tryna change but I always snap back into this. I jumped on the opportunity to be close to you when you were injured, and I used that as a way to make me change... I'm strugglin'," Micah choked out. "I can't help it. I'm so used to bein' the big bad cowboy, but then you came along and made me all soft inside!" Micah somewhat snapped. You heard him swallow hard as if he had a lump in his throat.

You closed the gap, shuffling over to sit right beside him. You placed a hand on his leg, his rough, soaked jeans pressed against your palm.

"Is that why you snapped at me talking to Arthur? Cause you were pushin' me away? Not on purpose of course... I mean, it's a big step for you, ain't it?" You ask him, trying not to say too much at once.

"It is," Micah sighed. He looked down at your hand on his knee and slowly placed his on top of yours. "I'm tryin' my best. Just hard to break the habit, 'specially when you've been like this since birth."

"You'll get there, Micah," you tell him as you turn your hand over, letting your fingers lock in between his. You see him smile, the brim of his hat still covering part of his face. The two of you sit there in silence for a little while. You went over all he said in your head, finally understanding why he is the way he is.

"So, I've made you soft then, huh?" You tease. He chuckles.

"Yes, Miss ___. A damn woman has finally made me soft. If my brother was here he'd give me some 'I told you so' talk." Micah's thumb begins to rub over yours.

"Well, Mister Bell, you've made me pretty soft too," you tell him.

"Must have if you're sittin' here holdin' my hand," Micah looks at you and straightens his posture. "Bet you're gonna try 'n' kiss me next, ain'tcha?" he teases, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, no, no! I'm saving that until marriage," you joked, raising your nose at him.

"We gettin' married now? Whatever you want, darlin'."

You put your hand over your mouth as you realize the hole you're digging, despite it all being a joke. You laugh, and Micah smiles as he watches you.  
Your laughter is cut short as Micah gently reaches out and cups your jawline, his hardened skin brushing over your soft face. He's looking directly into your eyes, taking it all in and you're doing the same.

"There ain't no fellas around to interrupt us now," Micah states, reminding you of the last time you got close to kissing him.

"We ain't cramped in a closet either," you add. Micah smiles and you can see genuine warmth coming from him.

He slowly reaches up with his other hand and takes off his hat, placing on the log beside him, knowing what's about to happen. 

Who would have guessed this would happen. You're sat on a log in the rain, you're soaked, but you're finally kissing 'big bad Micah Bell.'  
  
His kisses are softer and slower than you imagined. His moustache and beard don't prickle your skin, and the way he's holding the back of your head is sending shivers down your spine, his thumb softly stroking over your hair.  
  
Micah's kissing you with warmth and passion, the complete opposite of his personality. It all feels too real, too good. He lets go of your hand so he can cup the other side of your head with it, gently holding you. You can taste whiskey and tobacco on his lips, the taste of a real outlaw. You deepen the kiss, boldly moving so you're straddling his lap, not breaking apart.  
  
One of his arms wraps around your waist, keeping ahold of you. You slowly rest your arms on the back of his neck, enjoying the gentle sighs he makes in between kisses.

Eventually, he pulls away, his thumb stroking over your cheek as he gazes at you. His pupils are wide and full of lust. When you first met Micah, you expected him to be feral and unhinged at all times. You thought if you'd ever kiss he'd make it quick so he could pull your skirt up and take you. You never thought this man would be so passionate and lustful, but here you are.

Your hand strokes along his beard, admiring the older man. You suddenly let out a shiver. It's small but enough to make Micah worry.

"I gotta get you inside, darlin'. You're soaked," Micah holds back from making a sexual joke.

"So are you! C'mon, I got more than enough blankets to warm us up," you say as you shuffle off him, taking his hand as you walk back to camp.

"You askin' me to stay with you?" Micah questions as he plops his hat back on.

"I am."

"I don't wanna intrude. I ain't been kind to you," Micah's eyes shift to the floor, scolding himself for what he's done.

"You don't have to, but I'm asking you," you smile up at him, giving his hand a small squeeze.

"You go on inside. I'll go get a change of clothes."

You make your way into your tent, moving your bedroll and blankets into the corner so you don't drip all over them. You're lucky enough to have quite a large tent, you can almost fully stand in it and there's more than enough space for 2 people and their belongings. You look through your stuff, finding some warm sleeping attire.  
  
Micah enters your tent, chucking his clean clothes and bedroll on the floor as he fastens up the tents opening. You scold him for it as you move his clothes off the dirty floor and onto your bedroll.

"So it begins," Micah jokes as he finishes closing the flaps.

"I just don't want you changing into dirty clothes," you shrug as you take off your boots.

Micah keeps his back turned, the two of you facing away from each other as you change into pajamas. You fold your wet clothes and place them in the corner, telling yourself that you'll put them on the line tomorrow. Micah chucks his wet clothes on top of yours, making you roll your eyes at him. Micah's quick to pull your beds together and get comfortable, lying on his side, propping himself up with his elbow.  
  
You snuggle down next to him, feeling him watch your every move as you get comfortable. He pulls the blankets over you, tucking you in.

"Look at you, makin' sure I'm cozy," you tease him.

"I don't want you catchin' a cold," he says as he lies down on his back, his hands resting on his chest, shutting his eyes.

You're somewhat irritated that he's not cuddling you, but you understand that he doesn't want to push any boundaries. So, you roll over and cuddle up to him, moving his arm so it's resting under your head, your arm around his waist, head on his chest. Micah molds himself to you, holding onto you in hopes that you'll never let go.

"I ain't soft... but I've been waitin' a long time to do this," Micah gently tells you under his breath.

"Me too," you reply, giving him a little squeeze.

The two of you soon drift off to sleep.  
  
Micah isn't one to sleep often and wakes up multiple times during the night. Each time he awakens he gently kisses your forehead, trying not to move so he doesn't accidentally wake you. He lies there, listening to the sound of the rain hitting the tent, enjoying that warm fluttery feeling in his stomach for once. He hopes one day that with you by his side, he'll be able to sleep without being woken up by those awful dreams.  
  
Micah fiddles with your hair, brushing it off your face, gently massaging your head. Eventually, he's able to fall back asleep. Tomorrow is a new day, and hopefully, he can work on becoming a better man.


	7. First Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another long one lads!! i didnt realise that this fic is almost a year old?! noice.

You wake up in a sweat, the heat cooking you alive in this stuffy thick tent. You quickly get onto your knees, opening the front and back flaps of the tent so you can enjoy that sudden cool breeze. At least the air was cold.  
You lay back down, sprawling out on your roll mat after wiping the sweat off your forehead. Your eyes shut, giving yourself a few moments to cool off before getting up.

Wait. Where is Micah?

The angsty blonde man isn't beside you like he was last night. You lift your head up, looking around but he's not in your line of sight. You sigh, getting up and quickly closing the tent flaps so you can get ready for the day.

Once you emerge from your tent, you finally see Micah. He's sat over by the campfire, sharpening his knife as always.  
Despite the heat, today seems rather pleasant; The sun is shining and the sky is blue. Although, Micah has a frown on his face, but you were pretty certain he always looked like that.

Micah looks up as you're walking over as if he could sense you approaching.

"There she is," he calls out, putting away his knife and chucking his sharpening stone on his chair as he stands up to greet you. Micah's holding his arms out as he walks over to you, a common pose of his. He gently cups a hold of your jawline and gently kisses your forehead.  
"Mmm, you taste like sweat," Micah mocks, frowning as he wipes his mouth.

"I haven't had a wash yet," you explain. You're almost certain nobody saw, seeing as they were all distracted in their own way.

"How is my woman today?" Micah asks, a little louder than usual. You know what he's trying to do.

"I'm boiling, Micah. It's real hot," you reply.

"Well, sweetheart, you're gonna have to tolerate it. I've got something planned for us, something real good," Micah tells you as he places his hands on his gunbelt.

"Go on," you encourage. The first thing that comes to mind is something cheesy and romantic, like a nice walk or a cute boat ride, but that isn't very Micah Bell.

"Stagecoach robbery," Micah states. "A good one, too. Got some payroll and not too many guards. Easy job for myself and a woman whos far too good with a gun."

You're a little skeptical, looking at the ground, remembering what happened the last time you went to rob a stagecoach. You begin to speak but Micah cuts you off.

"I know what you're thinking, sweetheart, but you've got your man by your side now. You ain't gonna get hurt again," Micah tells you as he briefly points to your leg.

"Let me think about it over breakfast, alright?" You ask him.

"Sure, sure!" Micah replies, holding his hands up. "It comes through this afternoon so you've got till then to decide. Go get yourself some food, I'll wait over here till you're ready." Micah gives your hand a little squeeze before turning heal and settling back down on the chair, pulling out his guns so he can start cleaning them, despite them already being clean.

You don't take too long to get ready to face the day, filling your belly with food and coffee, then having a quick wash. You eventually come to the conclusion that if you reject this job, you're only allowing fear to win. The only reason to not go was fear, and why should you let fear control you?  
Micah is chuffed with your response. "Exactly girl," he tells you when you tell him that you don't want fear to control you. He has his hand on your lower back as the two of you walk over to the horses, mounting up and heading out.

The journey isn't too far, waiting just up the road from Braithwaite Manor. The two of you got there with time to spare, Micah makes conversation.

"You think people had their eyes on us back at camp, darlin'?" he asks.

"Well, you were talking pretty loud," you turn to look at him, smirking. "I know what you were tryna do, Mister Bell," you tease.

"I know. I want them to know you ain't available no more," Micah replies, keeping his eyes on the horizon.

"No ones ever tried it on with me, Micah. You ain't got nothin' to worry about."

"Mhmm. That's what you think. I've noticed a few pairs of eyes on you before."

"Oh really? Like who?"

"I ain't gonna say. Don't want you viewing people any differently."

You reach out and take a hold of Micahs hand, giving it a little squeeze. He keeps a hold of your hand, bringing it up so he can plant a kiss in your knuckles. Micah's eyes are drawn away from you as the stagecoach appears in your line of sight.

"There she is. Mask on, darlin'," Micah tells you. The two of you equipt your masks, along with your guns and a mouthful of chewing tobacco. "Look at us, goin' on our first date," Micah says underneath the mask.

"I wouldn't have it any other way, my love," you respond, giving him a saucy look. You know Micah is blushing heavily under his mask just from the way he looks at you, clearly not expecting but also loving the pet name. "Come on," you tell him, your horse trotting away.

Micah does the talking, getting to say the iconic "This is a robbery!" line. Of course, there's a fight, but despite being outnumbered, the two of you manage to fend them off.  
You're quick to rob the stagecoach, stowing big bags of cash on the back of your horse and Baylock. Micah loots the bodies, telling you to hurry up as he notices men from Braithwaite Manor approaching. The two of you manage to get away but there's men on your tail. You lose them in a forest north of where you were, eventually finding an abandoned pig farm to hide in.  
  
Both of you grab the money, shooing your horse as you head inside. Your nose scrunches at the foul smell, the air full of the stench of decaying corpses. There's two ugly bodies inside, so the two of you sit in what was the lounge. Neither of you can hear anyone approaching, assuming you'd lost them through that forest.

You and Micah wait there for about an hour, just to make sure. You don't talk much, not wanting to risk anyone overhearing you. Micah leaves you with the cash as he goes out to scout the area. He's quick, returning with the horses.

"That was far too easy," you say as you mount your horse, a little skeptical.

"It wasn't, you're just far too good," Micah responds as the two of you begin trotting off back to Clemens Point.

You're back for sundown, overhearing Pearson shout that the stews ready. Good. You were hungry.  
Micah offers you a hand as you dismount your horse, the two of you carrying the bags of cash into camp after spoiling your horses and removing their saddles.

"Boss!" Micah calls out, alerting Dutch. Dutch walks over, chuckling with open arms.

"Yes!" He shouts. "Look at you two," he grins.

Dutch takes the bag from your shoulder, not wanting you to carry too much weight despite it only being paper. He peers inside, his eyes lighting up as he pulls out a handful of notes.

"There must be hundreds here," Dutch says. "Oooh, you two! You two have done real well here. I hope everyone else here can look up to the both of you since you're showing them how it's done," Dutch says as he raises his voice, alerting the camp. "We'll be celebrating tonight! A couple of drinks for the happy couple and their big score!"

Your eyes widen at Dutch's remark. '_Happy couple._' Was it that obvious that the two of you were a thing? Dutch is extremely observant, everybody knows that, but had the others picked up on it already?

Dutch takes both the bags, stowing them in his tent for now. He's quick to pass the two of you a beer, taking one for himself.

"Did you have any trouble?" Dutch asks before taking a swig.

"None, boss," Micah informs.

"It..." you pause. "It seemed a little too easy," you tell Dutch.

"Were you followed?" Dutch asks.

"Not at all," you respond.

"Well, we'll have extra hands on guard duty, just in case. It couldn't have been a set up though, there's far too much cash here for that." Dutch ponders for a second. "Don't worry about it for now, I'll let it ponder in my mind. You two just worry about enjoying yourselves and getting drunk. You've done good, both of you."

The three of you clank bottles before downing most of your drink. Dutch urges you to go mingle, shouting for Javier to start playing some music.

"I'll get my banjo!" Uncle says as he's quick to his feet for once.

"No, please, no," Javier begs, quickly taking a hold of his guitar and playing. Uncle scoffs but sits back down, starting to sing instead.

Micah wonders off for a while, mostly talking to Bill and playing a bit of poker. You try to socialize with the women but they seem a little... off. You're sat with them under their tent, three beers down.

"___?" Karen asks, slurring her words. She was already drunk when the two of you got back.

"Karen?" you respond.

"Why are you with that rat?" Karen blankly asks, the other girls looking rather uncomfortable despite also wanting to ask the same question.

"What? Erm..." you pause, a little unsure how to respond. "Cause I like him? I guess?"

"You don't sound too sure," Karen replies.

"You're put me on the spot here, Karen," you tell her. You turn from here to look back over at everybody, your eyes catching Micahs as he's sat with Bill. You give him an awkward smile and he picks up on how uncomfortable you are.

"I just don't get what you see in him, none of us do," Karen shrugs.

"I ain't gotta explain my love life to you," you tell her, accidentally sounding rather blunt.

"Woah, alright. You're already picking up his bad attitude," Karen laughs. You scoff.

"I haven't got a bad attitude, I didn't mean for that to come across so rude, but you're stickin' your nose in other peoples business," you turn back to her, your voice strong as you speak.

"Hey now, both of you calm it," Tilly butts in, Mary-Beth nodding in agreement.

"You can love whoever you want, ___. We're just a little concerned for your choice, that's all," Mary-Beth adds.

"I ain't concerned," Karen laughs. "You're plain stupid for picking that... that man," Karen scoffs, trying to find some form of insult. You're about to stand up and start shouting at her for not minding her own business but a small cough catches your attention.

"Ladies," Micah says, giving his head a small nod. "Miss ___?" Micah asks, his hand stretched out. You're quick to take it, rising to your feet and angrily walking away, pulling Micah with you.

"Woah, calm it, sweetheart," Micah says as he catches up to you, putting his arm around your waist so he can stop you. You huff. Micah keeps his arm around your waist as he walks you over to the edge of camp, giving the two of you somewhere quiet to talk.

"What's got you seeing red?" Micah asks.

"Just Karen," you huff.

"Ah, that bitch," Micah responds as he leans back against one of the hitching posts, you stood beside him.

"No, Micah. She ain't a bitch... she just shouldn't be poking her nose about in things that don't concern her."

Micah lets out a small laugh. "She askin' you about your love life, sweetheart?"

"I don't mind tellin' you what she's said. You just gotta promise that you won't... do anything. I don't want no trouble or drama."

"You have my word, besides, I ain't gonna waste my breath on her," Micah shrugs.

"Alright, well... she just said she's concerned for me, cause I'm... erm-"

"with me." Micah finishes your sentence. You look up from the floor at him. Micah doesn't look surprised as you nod, but he does let out a deep long sigh. "I'm used to comments like that," Micah shrugs. "I'm a baaad man, we all know it," Micah holds his hands out wide, looking like nothing will phase him.

"Nah, you... you ain't..." You can't bring yourself to say it. Micah IS a bad man, you know this, he knows this, everyone knows this.

"I am trying to change," Micah responds. The two of you stand in silence a little bit, unsure of what to say.

"Come on, come dance with me," Micah says as he stands upright.

"Dance?" you question, laughing a little bit.

"Yes, dance. Or would you rather go sit back with the girls?"

"I didn't know you were a dancin' man, Mister Bell."

"I ain't... I just... Just feels like the right thing to do." Micah shrugs, taking a hold of your hand. You go to walk towards Dutch's tent where him and Molly were already Dancing but Micah holds you back.

"Now, when I said dance, I didn't mean... that. Come with me," Micah says, leading you away from the camp to the shoreline.

You're far from sight, though easy to notice if somebody came looking for you. The sound of the party in full swing could be heard in the distance, clashing sounds of laughter, a phonograph, and a guitar. A somewhat pleasant mix of melodies.

Micah takes you by the waist, your joint hands raising to shoulder height. He pauses for a moment, looking at his feet; you can see the cogs turning in his brain, he's probably never done this before.

"I ain't.. how..." Micah stutters, slightly frustrated at himself.

"Just sway," you tell him as you gently move, deciding to keep your feet stationary. Nice and simple.

Micah's badly out of time at first, making you softly laugh. He eventually matches your rhythm as well as he can, his eyes wandering around as he feels a little uncomfortable.

Your head comes to rest on his shoulder, trying your best to show him that he's doing alright.

"Remind me to never dance again," Micah jokes, though he's definitely serious.

You can't help but laugh. The feeling of your breath against his neck and chest sends a shiver down his spine, his eyes flicking down at you to reassure him. Yes, you really were pressed up against him as you danced. And yes, you really were his sweetheart.

Micahs hands slowly move away from yours, moving down to join the other hand around your waist. Your hand moves to sit comfortably on him, your bodys pressed against each other. A gentle kiss is pressed on your head, the hair of his moustache picking up a few strands of your hair. Micah moves them away, his hand stroking along your hair and eventually resting on the back of your head.

Micah lets out a long sigh, still in awe that you somehow felt the same as him. He's stunned. Should he contact his brother? Let him know he's found a woman and is doing his best to change? Amos would never believe him, even if he met you in person. He'd probably ask how much Micah was paying you to lie for him.

"I can feel you thinking," you tell him. His aura changes whenever he's in deep thought, and you can easily sense it.

"Mhmm, I am," Micah tells you.

"You wanna talk about it?" you offer.

"No need, I'm alright," Micah declines.

Your head moves off his shoulder, eyes meeting his as you place your hands around his shoulders.

"You'd tell me if you weren't, wouldn't you?" you ask, genuinely concerned for this train-wreck of a man.

"Course," Micah responds. "You're real soft on me, you know that?" he jokes.

"Oh? You want me to stop?" You ask him, raising an eyebrow.

"No! I'm just messin' with ya," Micah places a kiss on your forehead. You decide that's not good enough, leaning up to meet his lips instead.

Micah happily hums as he melts into your kiss, allowing his heart to flutter, allowing himself to really get soft on you. His hand moves from your waist to cup your head, lips slowly moving against yours. His moustache prickles your upper lip, though you don't mind. You can feel his belly pressed against yours, something you were certain Micah was a little self-conscious about.

Your mouth opens slightly, tongue greeting his. You can taste beer on his lips, the taste of tobacco faint for once. Micah picks up on the soft sighs you make as the kiss deepens, though you didn't even realize you were making them. Don't worry, he thinks they're cute.

The sound of a thud makes you jump, your noses bumping together as both of you break the kiss. Your eyes dart the area, eventually picking up on a moving figure a few meters away amongst the bushes.  
It's light enough outside to see Uncle slowly standing up, brushing the dirt off his raggy clothes.

"You been watchin' us, old man?" Micah groans, looking over his shoulder.

"No, no! I ain't! Promise!" Uncle raises his hands. He's not scared of Micah, not in the slightest, but Uncle isn't one for trouble.

"Why you here then?" Micah questions.

"Just went for a leak and stumbled over," Uncle explains.

Micah scoffs. "Get outta here," he groans.

Uncle complies, quickly scurrying away back to camp, zipping up his fly that he accidentally left down. Micah turns back to you, sighing and shaking his head. You let out a little laugh, seeing the funny side of this situation. Micah smiles at you, seeing it too, though he's still annoyed the moment was 'ruined.'

"You wanna head to bed, sweetheart?" you ask him.

"Mhmm. Not yet," Micah replies as he takes your hand again, swaying as good as he can.

"Now, you told me to remind you that you ain't a dancing man," you joke as you match his rhythm.

"This is just for tonight," Micah says, moving his hand off your waist to gently push your head back against his shoulder. You softly laugh against him as you settle, your eyes shut as you enjoy his company.


	8. Concern

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ive posted two chapters in one day?! damn. must be on crack

Uncle makes his way over to the campfire, picking up a slight pace as he hurries over. It was strange seeing Uncle hurry for once, his Lumbago not affecting him during this intense time of gossip.

"You'll never guess what I just saw!" Uncle tells them as he approaches. Several pairs of eyes look over as the elderly man interrupts their current conversation.

"What'd you see, old man?" John asks.

"I just saw our lovely Miss ___ makin' out with Micah! Can you believe it? Them two?!" Uncle is genuinely shocked, his mouth parted as he points over from the direction he'd come from.

There's a moment of silence, the camp members looking around at each other. Finally, somebody speaks up.

"We know," Karen rolls her eyes.

"Huh?" Uncle questions.

"You not noticed? Micah won't leave her alone. And as for ___, well, that's her own damn fault," Karen scoffs.

"Well? Ain't we gonna do somethin' about it?" Uncle asks as he finally takes a seat, genuinely concerned for you.

"What can we do?" Karen shrugs.

"It ain't our business," John adds.

"It might become our business," Arthur speaks up. John looks at him, urging him to continue. "Well, I'm just saying. If Micah ain't treatin' her right then as family, it's our right to reach out and help her."

"She dug her own grave, she can lie in it," Karen rolls her eyes. "Micah will get bored of her sooner or later."

"Have you met Micah? I bet you he's manipulating that poor woman into 'liking' him," John states.

"That why I'm saying we need to do something about it!" Uncle throws his hands up in the air.

"Like they said, it ain't our business... yet," Arthur shakes his head. "I say we keep an eye on them and if he is in any way hurting her, then it becomes our business."

"I guess that's how it'll be," John holds his hands out, agreeing with Arthur.

"I ain't botherin'," Karen scoffs yet again. "Her own fault for spendin' so much time around that rat."

"As much as I agree with you, Karen, I ain't gonna let her get hurt. Sometimes... sometimes you can't always see the warnings in a person," Arthur explains from his own past experiences.

"Whatever," Karen says as she stands up. "I'll leave you boys to it," she says as she heads off, probably to find Sean.

The campfire remains silent, most members still in shock that you, the camps kindest gunslinger, has managed to start dating... Micah. Arthur lets out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

He warned you. He's mentioned it through passing comments and even had a talk with you that one night when you were both alone at the campfire. What is he meant to do? Nothing?

Arthur decides he'll have a talk with you when the time is right, and maybe a very stern talk with Micah. He's certain Micah knows that everybody's eyes are on him, watching his every move. The camp is ready to pounce on that man the second he slips up, eager to find any excuse to kick him out, even if Dutch doesn't agree with it.

Mornings here. Micah wakes you with a cup of coffee and a kiss to the forehead. For a man that takes pride in being a lone wolf, he's very affectionate and maybe even a little clingy. You were certain he hadn't had a relationship for quite a while, if ever, which would explain why he was already becoming dependant and attaching himself to you.

And now look at him, taking a seat beside you after rolling open the tent flaps, waiting patiently for you to have your coffee and get out of bed. He doesn't seem fussed about the few glances, knowing people are watching his every move.

You're finally ready to start the day. Micah leaves the tent, closing the flaps behind him so you can change in peace. He already told you that he'd be heading out today so that's what he does. He makes his way over to Baylock, saddling him up and setting off.

Once you're up and about, though still groggy, Tilly approaches you.

"Hey, ___," she calls out, catching your attention.

"Oh, hey Tilly," you greet.

"So me and the girls are headin' into town today. You wanna join us?" Tilly offers.

"Oh, sure, I'd love to!" you smile.

"Good. We're headin' out within the hour. Arthurs gonna be takin' the wagon so don't worry about saddling up ___, let 'em rest," Tilly tells you.

"Sounds good, let me know when you're ready to leave."

"Alright, I'll catch you in a bit," Tilly smiles as she wanders off.

There's a funny feeling in your gut. You know, the one you get when somethings not quite right? You've ridden into town with the girls many times before, but this just felt... different.

Guess you'll just have to wait and see.

By midday, you were sitting amongst the women in the back of the wagon. Well, Tilly and Mary-beth. Karen had decided not to join, too hungover from last nights shenanigans. Arthur was driving, a pipe in his mouth, wearing a large funny-looking sun hat that drooped over half of his face. Arthur protested playing dress-up, as always, but Hosea insisted he did, especially since Arthur was a wanted man and the two of them had begun having some weird interactions with one of the families here yesterday.

"So, ___," Mary-beth says as she turns to you, breaking the silence. You give her a look, waiting for her to continue. "There anything you wanna talk to us about?"

Oh, God. Here we go.

"No?" you reply, questioning their motives.

"But you'd come to us if there was, right?" Mary-beth adds.

"Of course," you reassure them.

"Okay, well... that's good," she slowly sighs. The three of you stare at each other; you're looking slightly frustrated, waiting to get this conversation over and done with.

"Go on, spit it out," you tell the girls. They give each other a look, then turn back to you.

"You know we wanna talk about Micah," Tilly tells you. You let out a sigh, shaking your head.

"I understand your concern but really, he's fine."

"We're just worried for you, that's all," Tilly explains.

"You ain't got nothing to be worried about."

"Okay, but... why? Why Micah? I understand we don't exactly live with the most handsome of men, but why you gotta pick one of the worst?" Mary-beth sighs, the tone of concern is strong in her voice.

"I heard that," Arthur says.

"Not you Arthur. You know how handsome you are," Tilly tells him. Arthur chuckles, telling them it was just a joke.

You shake your head, shrugging. "I don't know? We just click? I understand he's a bad man but I see something in him. There's a real good side that y'all ain't seen, but I have!" You explain. You had to tell them something else they'd never get off your back, despite only wanting the best for you.

"We understand you've seen that, but we haven't. That's why we're so worried," Tilly says. "He ain't exactly nice to us."

"He's a fool," Arthur adds.

"I'm sorry he treats you like that, but I'm tryna help him change."

"___, it ain't your job to help him change. He's gotta do that by himself. Don't make him rely on you," Mary-beth tells you, Tilly nodding along.

"I know. I understand," you sigh.

"Just, please come to us if you need us, alright?" Tilly asks.

"I will, you know I will," you tell them both.

Arthur pulls up at Rhodes, the four of you climbing off the wagon and heading off to grab whatever you needed. You all took your time, surprised at how quiet the town seemed for once.

Before heading back to camp, the four of you had something to eat at the Saloon. Your 'girls' day out was rather pleasant, joking with Arthur that he was now one of the girls. He totally was, and damn right he knew it.

The rest of the day is spent mingling and relaxing. You spend the evening sharing a drink with Bill and John, and eventually head to bed.

Micah doesn't come home tonight. You're aching to feel him against you, feeling down after all the pestering you endured today. You really understand that people are only trying to look out for you, but it's getting a bit much.

You're strong in your own ways, more than able to tell anybody to fuck off if they were crossing any boundaries. Apart from Sadie, you were the camp's main gunwoman, your bite being far worse than your bark.

The pestering will calm down over time. Or at least, you hoped it would.


	9. Wounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITS BEEN SO LONG, BUT HERES AN UPDATE. sorry this ones short, but I've been flooded with fic requests and other garbage. but here we go!!!!
> 
> I've also gone and updated my older chapters to fix typos and such, so if you to notice any, pls let me know xxxx

Today has been rather slow. It's been hotter than hell outside, causing you to retreat to the shade of your tent with the flaps rolled open, enjoying the regular breeze that wafted through. Most of the camp have been lazing about, stripped down to lighter clothing as they try their best not to overheat.

At least you weren't freezing up in the mountains again, though you wouldn't mind a pile of snow being dumped on you right now.

The temperature finally drops as evening arrives, the sun's rays turning the sky orange as it slowly submerges into the water. You're grabbing a bowl of stew, barely eating anything all day as the heat was making you feel sick.

After slopping the food into your bowl, you go to take a seat at the campfire, making light conversation with your fellow camp members, gossiping, and nattering about whatever sprung to mind.

They disappear one by one, the heat wearing them out so they decide to catch an early night. You're one of the few that remain awake, deciding to stay up a little longer to see if Micah will return home tonight. He usually lurks in and out of camp during the later hours, so you have more chance of finding your partner if you wait up for him.

Javier is the last to leave, saying goodnight as he makes his way over to his tent. You look over at the horses, your eyes scanning the forest as you look for any signs of movement. It's no surprise when you realize that there are none, only the slight dance to the trees as the breeze continues to hit the camp.

Your eyes find their way back to the campfire, letting out a quiet sigh as you rest your chin on your hand. Questions are running through your head, but you remind yourself not to be worried. You know Micah's fine. This isn't the first time he's disappeared for a few days, always coming back with handfuls of cash, making Dutch's eyes sparkle.

A familiar pair of footsteps can be heard approaching you. You look up to see Arthur, taking a seat opposite you.

"Miss," Arthur greets as he gives his head a little nod.

"Hey, Arthur," you respond.

"How you been keepin'?" Arthur asks.

"I'm well, how're you?"

"The usual, you know, survivin'," Arthur shrugs.

"Oh. Do you wanna talk about it?" You offer, picking up on the small things that are always bugging the poor man.

"Nah, nah," Arthur says as he waves his hand. "I ain't one for loadin' my problems onto others," he pauses for a short moment, "although, there is somethin' I wanna talk about..."

Here we go again.

"Go on, Arthur," you sigh, knowing damn well what he's about to ask.

"C'mon, ___. Micah, really? What are you thinkin'?" Arthur tuts, shaking his head as he speaks.

"I know you two don't get along but trust me, Arthur, he's alright."

"How much is he payin' you? There ain't no way this is serious."

"He ain't payin' me, Arthur. It's real, alright," you sigh yet again.

"Has he forced himself on you?" Arthur firmly asks, all eyes on you.

"No, Arthur."

"You promise me?"

"I promise you."

"And you'd tell us if he did, right?"

"Of course I would. I ain't stupid."

"Never said you were!" Arthur replies as he raises his hands. "I'm just worried, that's all."

"I know that Arthur, but trust me, you'd be the first to know if anything went south," you reassure him, hoping you'd reassured him enough to let him drop the conversation.

"Good. I mean, I'll never see why you'd go for him, he ain't even a man! But you do whatever makes you happy, I guess," Arthur tells you as he shifts his weight in his seat, getting comfortable, his eyes returning back to you.

"Okay, Arthur," you shrug, not wanting to accidentally spark an argument. You know Arthur means well, he just sometimes has a funny way of saying it...

Your heart drops a little. You understand exactly why everybody warns you over and over about Micah, but you truly did see good in him. If he was really just using you or leading you on, then he wouldn't have waited around for so long? He wouldn't have been patient and understanding? He wouldn't have been tending to your wound when you were injured?

Micah doesn't come across as the kind of guy to go through all that, just to fuck you and run, or to view this as a joke. As much as everybody was trying to be there for you, all they seemed to do was force doubts into your head, doubt that you never had from the start.

Arthur picks up on your disappointed expression and realizes that he's turned your mood sour unintentionally. He's quick to excuse himself, not wanting to accidentally make you feel any worse. Hopefully, the camp will get off your back now.

The sound of distant hooves trotting perks your ears up, and as you turn you spot the white face of Baylock approaching the camp, Micah on his back. You're quick to your feet, almost running across the camp to finally see Micah, only your expression drops as you approach.

He's slumped forward slightly, one hand clutching onto his leg. There's a red patch around his hand, and you're quick to realize he's injured. As you go to open your mouth, Micah cuts you off, quickly waving his hand as Baylock comes to a halt.

"Now don't you start worryin'," Micah tells you as he notices your panicked expression. "They ain't hit an artery else I wouldn't have made it back. I'll be fine," he tells you, accepting your hand as he climbs down from Baylock.

You swing his arm over your shoulder, taking him by the waist as you begin to walk him into camp. "I'm still gettin' you help though. You need that stitchin' up," you say.

Micah opens his mouth to protest, but you've already called out for Miss Grimshaw. For some reason, she's still awake, looking out at the view but her ears perked up when she hears you call her voice. Susan picks up to the panic in your voice and scurries over, chucking her half-drunk coffee to the floor as she begins to ask a hundred questions at once.

"Come on, Mister Bell. ___, you take him to your tent and I'll get what I need to patch him up," Susan says as she begins waving her hands about and waking up half of the camp with her raised voice.

Micah continues to mope and protest, but he knows he needs the help, so he eventually lies down on your cot but orders you to leave, not wanting you to see the gore that's about to happen.

You're happy to leave, not wanting to see it either. You're unsure of how Susan has the stomach to sew someone back together, but you return to the campfire, waiting patiently as you have a drink.

Micah tries to keep his voice down, but the sound of his hisses and whines echo throughout the camp. It's hard to stay silent when your wound is aching and you're being stabbed with a needle, but the camp is somewhat understanding. A few of them drop by to ask if Micah needs anything, to which he shoos them away, telling each of them that "I'll be fine."

After about half an hour, Susan approaches you and informs you that Micah's all patched up and has asked for you to return to him. You take your drink, picking up a bottle of whiskey on the way, and enter your tent.

He's already tucked himself into bed, the blanket over him though he props himself up on his elbows. "Before you start, I'm fine," Micah tells you as he watches you place the bottles down on the empty crate beside your bed.

"I know. I heard you tell everybody that as they came 'n' checked on you," you reply, closing the tent flaps and beginning to undress.

"Good. I just... let's not talk about it, alright?" Micah asks.

"You done something to deserve that wound, I take it?"

"I might have. It was just a little robbery that went wrong, that's all," Micah says as he sits upright, raising his hands innocently. He takes the bottle from the side, pulling the cork out and beginning to drink it, his eyes watching you as you almost fully undress, stripping down to your undergarments.

"I... I ain't seen you like that before," Micah says, his eyes going wide at the sight of you.

"For a man that I originally thought would take the chance to undress me the second he got it, you've surprised me instead," you reply, shuffling in your cot beside him, ensuring you're on the opposite side to his stab wound. The last thing you want to do right now is accidentally roll over in the night and roll right on top of that thing.

"I didn't want it to come across like that. Not that I ain't been dyin' to see you naked," Micah smirks, lying down beside you, often lifting his head up slightly so he can continue to drink.

"Well, if someone hadn't have got himself shanked, then maybe we would have been doing that right now," you joke, rolling onto your side and propping yourself up on one elbow, speaking down to him as your hand rests on his chest, fiddling with the buttons of his red shirt.

"Don't remind me," Micah sighs. He chucks the empty bottle to the floor and puts his arm out, looking at you patiently to take your place.

Micah's arm wraps around you, his fingers lightly brushing against your shoulder as you cuddle up to him. Your arm wraps around his pudgy stomach, and your head rests on his chest.

Micah is probably in a lot of pain right now, a lot more than the little he makes out to be in, and you have more than an ounce of respect for him for being able to hide that pain. You were a crying mess when you were shot, so to see Micah not reacting at all did make you question how much pain this man has tolerated in the past.

A gentle kiss is placed to your forehead, his moustache still rubbing against your skin as he speaks. "Looks like it's your turn to take care of me, sweetheart," Micah jokes.

"Oh, how the tables have turned," you giggle. "Come on, you need rest," you tell him.

"Alright. Just a little," Micah sighs.

As we all know, Micah isn't one to sleep. He'll nap at most, but sleep? That's nonsense. It's a task Micah struggles with, and he has many reasons behind it. There's the vulnerability that Micah faces when he's in a deep slumber, along with the constant nightmares, the words he mumbles as he dreams, and much more. Micah decided a long time ago that sleeping, especially deep sleep, is something that he just can't handle. So, he'll nap here and there, though by now he's used to having bags under his eyes and a strain in his mind. That's just part of him now, and all he does is shrug it off and move on.

But since he's started dating you, he's slowly starting to dip his feet back in the water and reintroduce himself to sleep, but that's only because you're by his side. His cheek rests against the top of your head, his lips slightly parted as he breathes through his mouth, softly snoring.

Though the stinging pain to his leg is still strong enough to make his stomach turn, even whilst he's asleep, there's a warm feeling in his chest. It's been there the second you started flirting with him all those weeks ago, and it's strong enough to numb all the pain he tolerates on the daily.

You're here, and that's all Micah needs.


	10. Morning Glory

A week has passed, and Micah is persistent that he's well enough to move about by himself, despite the limp and hissing noise he makes when he tries to walk. You're still babying him, trying to do anything to get him back into bed so he can rest and not make more of a mess of himself, but all Micah wants to do is sit on his usual chair by the campfire and pretend to read the newspaper, so you'll let him do it for a few hours a day. 

He's cleaned his guns and knife over and over. He debated asking you to take them out with you so they can get dirty, just so he can clean then, but he doesn't trust anybody with his guns. No offense.

You're woken up to the sound of Micah whining, attempting to gently remove his arm from under your head so he can sit upright and pour more liquor on his wound that continues to sting. It's been a week, and his wound still shouldn't be throbbing this badly, but you're rubbing your eyes to see Micah fiddling with it yet again. Maybe he's picked at the stitches or his scab, pushing back the healing process, to which you wouldn't be surprised. 

Micah takes a swig of the same liquor that's dripping down his leg and lets out a gasp. "Much better," he mumbles to himself, putting the bottle back on the crate beside your cot. He looks over his shoulder as he lies back down, making sure he doesn't squish you, his eyes meeting your groggy ones. 

"Did I wake you?" he asks as he stretches his arm back out, letting you cuddle up to him. 

"Yes," you grunt, getting comfortable on his chest.

"Sorry, darlin'," Micah replies.

"You been picking at that wound, haven't you? That's why it's not healin'," you sigh.

"Noooo I ain't," Micah informs you. "You were just a fast healer, that's all."

"Micah. We've got the same wound in the same place, only you were stabbed and I was shot. You've gotta be doin' somethin' to that thing if it's still stinging after a week," you tell him. 

"If that's what you wanna think then go ahead, doll," Micah replies as he places a kiss to your head. 

You know that's his version of admitting to it, though you're not sure why you'd want to pick and fiddle with such an open wound, but alright. 

Sadly, you're awake now, though you're not ready to get up and Micah, as always, feels far too comfortable to move off him, so you remain in bed snuggling up to him. He's also happy with the non-verbal agreement, his eyes falling shut as his thumb strokes gently against your waist. 

You move your arm a little lower, sprawling it just above his hips, enjoying the soft pudge of his stomach. Just like most men in the morning, Micahs body begins to wake up, and you slowly feel his length harden against your arm. It's not directly against you, but close enough that you can feel it faintly through the thin fabric of Micahs sleepwear. 

The two of you are surprised that you haven't done anything, not even a little bit of sexual tension sneaking its way into the relationship. To be fair, Micah had spent a handful of days away from camp, and it was hard to get alone time when there's almost twenty other people on the other side of your thin tent walls.

But your tent canopy is thick enough to keep most of the light out, and your tent flaps are tightly fastened shut, so surely there's nothing wrong with moving your hand off his stomach, only to gently place your palm on his erection and start slowly massaging it. 

Micah lets out a sharp exhale, not expecting the bold move from you. He lets you slowly massage his length a little longer, his cock twitching every so often, before asking you "what'cha doin' there, sweetheart?" 

"Oh, nothing," you innocently reply.

"Doesn't feel like nothing to me," Micah replies as his eyes fall shut. 

"Alright, I'll stop then," you tease as you let go of his length. 

Micah instantly whimpers, "no no, you can carry on, if you want, darlin'." 

"That's what I thought," you smirk as you gently pull at his waistband. Micah lifts his hips a little so you can pull his briefs down, resting them around his thighs. You move your hand onto his cock, his length already solid with precum dripping from the tip. 

He's not the longest you've ever seen but he's got a fair amount of girth. Micah's a comfortable size, and he fits perfectly in your hand. You can feel his veins pressed against your palm, his cock throbbing every so often as you slowly pick up the pace on him. 

"Shit," Micah sighs as he lets out a sigh. "Come here, sweetheart," Micah tells you as he places his hand under your chin, asking your lips to meet his. You continue to pump his length as you lift your head up, shuffling up the bed slightly so you can kiss your partner. 

Either Micah was extremely sensitive, or he hadn't had anyone touch him in a while, maybe both? As he was already a whimpering mess, moaning between kisses. He's not kissed you like this before, a mix of eagerness and fire as he places one hand on the back of your head, holding your lips against his.

Micah has to break the kiss when you pump him even faster, whimpering like the mess he is as he lies back into the cot. You place your head back on his chest, and Micah runs his fingers along your hair, lightly massaging your scalp as you continue to get him off. You're happy with the trade, a head massage in exchange for a handjob? That's a win-win for both of you. 

"Sweetheart, I'm... shit!" Micah attempts to warn you, quickly throwing the blanket to the end of the bed, exposing his cock to the cool morning air so he doesn't ruin your bedding. 

"You gonna cum for me, Micah?" you ask in a playful tone. 

"Uh-huh," Micah quickly agrees, nodding at the same time. 

A few pumps later and Micah's spilling his load over his stomach, a few spurs of his cum trailing over the back of your fingers as you milk him. He lets out pretty moans for a man like himself, breathing heavily and still playing with your hair. 

Once Micah's came down from his high, you slowly get up, climbing over him as you exit your cot to find a cloth. You wipe the cum off your hand before helping Micah clean himself up. He watches you the whole time, shuffling up onto his elbows and beckoning you over so he can kiss you gently, a lot different than his last kiss. 

"Full of surprises, ain't you?" Micah says as you break the kiss.

"Oh, you have no idea," you tease, chucking the cummy cloth into your wash basket as you begin to get changed and ready for the day.

Micah gets up also, still giving you some privacy as he faces away from you. You can hear him hiss through gritted teeth as he puts his pants on, brushing against his wound despite the thick bandage wrapped around his thigh.

"You gotta let me repay the favour sometime," Micah comments as he buttons up his shirt

"I'm sure you're just as full of surprises as I am," you reply as you finish getting ready, turning to face Micah just as he's putting his hat on. 

"Oh, you got no idea, sweetheart," Micah smiles back as he opens the tent flaps. 

"I'm excited to find out," you say as you kiss his cheek. "Now, I gotta go do my chores. You gonna be good?" 

"Ain't I always good?" Micah asks as he moves to roll the other tent flap up. 

"Most definitely not," you shake your head. "We all know that, Micah." 

"Hey now, we've only just got up. No need to be like that already," Micah shakes his head back, though continues to smile as he knows you're only joking with him. "I'll be in my usual spot, darlin'. You have fun with them chores," he says. 

"See you later, love," you smile as you turn and head into camp, ready to down a cup of coffee before getting on with your day. 

Micah watches you leave with a smile on his face, just like he does every morning. He takes his usual seat by the fire, feeling refreshed and awake for once, but that's only because you helped him wake up. He's already begun thinking on the many ways he can repay you, some ways a bit rougher than the others, but he'll have to wait for the right opportunity for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this ones a lil short :0 but it looks like ur relationship is starting to progress ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


End file.
